


Bones

by Chouxpuff



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Food porn but not a kink, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 17:12:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10391781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chouxpuff/pseuds/Chouxpuff
Summary: Fill for the Kink meme:I would be so, so thrilled and happy to see a Female Hawke/Orana intimate fic, where F!Hawke comes home weak and in pain from a battle, and needs Orana to take care of her. "Take care of" preferably consists of helping her undress/bathe/bandage wounds, tucking her into bed, getting her pain meds, soothing her, etc. Nothing too severe or life threatening to the point where the other members of the gang would need to be involved. Just some F!Hawke/Orana. Bonus points if F!Hawke is embarrassed because she doesn't want to make Orana feel uncomfortable the way Hadriana used to, but Orana reassures Hawke that it's no problem at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Features somehow incharacter!dom!Orana, more notes at the bottom.

Hawke’s bones hurt. It was worst in her calves. Fenris had gotten knocked out, his leg broken and without Anders there to heal him she had needed to carry the unconscious and then humiliated elf all the way back from the wounded shore (he had tried to get down but no one present knew how to set a leg and Hawke refused to allow him to put weight on it). He wasn’t particularly heavy, 50 kilos at most but after five hours of hiking her legs hurt so badly from the excess weight, she imagined that perhaps they had fractured beneath her- tiny hair line cracks snaking along her shins. And she was also sunburned. All in all no terrible injuries or wounds but she was dead tired and grumpy to boot. Who bothers locking up a moth eaten scarf anyway?

She had dropped Fenris down at the clinic and dragged herself up the secret passage to the cellar of her estate.

“‘M home,” she announced in a muffled sleepy voice as she came up from the basement. She doubted anyone heard her. She clanked her armor and her staff purposefully as she all but stumbled down the hall, alerting the household to her presence. 

“Messere Hawk?” came Bohdan’s voice “Messere Hawke is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” she dragged her feet up the stairs. “I’m gonna clean up and-“She yawned “Go to bed”

She tromped into her room and collapsed onto her bed, groaning. Somehow sitting down made the pain in her legs worse, but she dreaded the idea of standing up.   
The door creaked over. Orana’s face peeked around the edge.

“Hi,” she said shyly with a smile. Hawked loved her smiles. There was such honest happiness in them, like the very act of smiling at Hawke brought her joy.

“Hey Orana,”

“You’re home. You look tired. What can I do to help?”

Hawke took a deep breath and let it out in a puff.

“I don’t know. Do what you want to do. You always seem to know to fix me up,”

Orana nodded and felt a little swell of pride in her chest.

“I’ll be right back,” She almost said Mistress. Hawke hated it when she called her mistress though. She never got mad, or hardly ever at least, only asked Orana not to- not wanting to let her know that it upset her but Orana knew. It spoke well of Hawke that she didn’t want to be Orana’s mistress she had realized. When she had first come to the estate she wondered if she had done something wrong that Hawke didn’t want to own her. Was she a bad slave? Did she embarrass her Mistress? Then she wondered if perhaps there was something wrong with Hawke, though she couldn’t think of what. It had taken a long time and many frustrated attempts to explain by Hawke before Fenris finally stepped in and made her understand.

Orana moved through the house, gathering her materials with precision and confidence, a mage collecting reagents for a potion, a chef sorting out ingredients, an artist selecting brushes. She slipped through the rooms on her toes, her arms becoming progressively heavier.

When she returned Hawke was still sprawled on the bed. She smiled fondly to herself and set her things down in the end table.

“Come now sit up love,”

“I don’t wanna,”

“You need to sit up Hawke,” she said firmly, kindly. And the champion sat, scowling.

“Oh your poor pretty nose is all red,” Orana lamented.

“It’s always red Orana,”

“But under the streak it’s red.” She touched it lightly and Hawke hissed.

“Right well we have something for that, but let’s get you cleaned up first,” her tone was calm and soothing, like a mother speaking to sick child. Hawke made no move to strip off her clothes so Orana began to do so for her.

She undid the buckles on the armor with precision and laid them to the side. She would clean it later, scrubbing off the gore, but not now. Then the absurd furry puff that draped her shoulders like a hood. The belt, the tunic and the mail shirt followed. Hawke made no move to help her, but she was pliant, her limbs loose. She wasn’t being petulant Orana knew, just enjoying having someone else in control, someone else taking care of her. Orana had never carried the burdens of responsibility that Hawke did. As a slave in Hadriana’s household her mistakes might be able to drag another slave down into trouble with her but she had hardly had the weight of an entire city on she shoulders. Now she had Hawke, and Hawke had Kirkwall. 

When Orana took off her boots Hawke whimpered.

“Shhh you poor thing, shhh it’s alright. I’ll make it all better but I have to get these things off you first okay?” Hawke did not speak, but nodded, her head pressed into Orana’s shoulder. Orana paused to stroke her hair, muttering soft nonsense to her.

She propped Hawke back up and tugged the hem of the tunic that she wore under her mail. Hawke lifted her arms to ease her way and Orana smiled gratefully.

“Such a good girl you are,” Orana cooed like an indulgent school teacher and Hawke grinned at that.

“Lie back and lift your hips?” Hawke acquiesced and Orana pulled her pants down over her hips still she was left in just her smalls and socks. Hawke was lying boneless on the bed and Orana gently pulled down her socks and her bottoms.

Hawke’s eyes were closed and she seemed on the verge of sleep. Orana frowned and nudged her.

“Try to stay awake dear, we need to clean you up,” Hawke groaned and nodded, sitting up.

“Kay, ‘m up,” she groused sleepily.

Orana took a cloth and dipped it in the bowl of hot water that she’d brought with her.

“Do you want to tell me about your day?” she asked, swiping the cloth over Hawkes strong, pale shoulders. Hawke nodded, grunting.

“Yeah, it was a day, it was…” she trailed off frowning “it was the wounded coast and there were these- these apostates ‘n they got Fenris,”

“Is he okay?” Orana asked, mildly alarmed. She knew it couldn’t be too serious or Hawke would have mentioned it earlier.

“Yeah he got knocked out, nasty concussion, and he broke his leg,” Orana nodded to indicate she was listening as she ran the cloth down Hawke’s back, though Hawke likely didn’t see- she was staring down at her hands, rubbing at a bit of blood that had dried next to her cuticle. “It was just me an’ Isabela an’ Varric so I had to carry him home,”

“Oh dear, your back must hurt something awful. And he didn’t put up a fight?” She dipped the cloth back in the water and began to work rubbing away the gore from Hawke’s forearms.

“When he woke up he bitched about it and tried to get me to put him down. He has this absurd idea about walking back to Kirkwall on his own,”

“I bet you put a stop to that,” Orana predicted with a chuckle.

“I tried. Varric did it really. He threatened to tell Anders and Fenris got all quiet. I swear you could hear his ears blushing and him getting the broody pout he gets when you tease him,” Hawke laughed. “You have cute ears, you know,” 

“I know. But thank you for reminding me,” There was that word again almost tacked on out of habit.

“I like your ears. I like to bite ‘em,”

“I know,” Orana said with a barely suppressed grin. Hawke didn’t really bite them per say, certainly not hard enough for it to hurt more than a twinge. Not like Hadriana. She sort of gnawed like a puppy on a slipper when she was feeling playful, or sometimes licked.

“Hey, now your ears are blushing too,” She giggled.

“Here, now put your hands in the water to soak,” Orana instructed after wetting the towel once more and moving over Hawke’s breasts and down to clean between her legs and over her thighs. Hawke squirmed and her breath hitched, but she said nothing. Eventually she finished and lifted the other woman’s hands out of the water. She rubbed at them with the towel, removing the last traced of grime.

“Sit back on the pillows?” and Hawke nodded and shimmied back. 

“Now let’s take care of your poor nose,” Hawke scrunched up said nose and made a face, and immediately regretted it. Orana tsked and smirked a little.

“Papa used to tell me not to make faces or I’d freeze like that,” Hawke giggled.

“I should be very fearsome then with my scrunched up face, like a dragon,”

“Always with the dragons,”

“Dragons are cool- hey what are you doing?”

“Fixing your nose silly, stay still,” Orana dabbed a salve of elf root and ice stone onto Hawke’s nose and she gave a little moan of relief.

“Oh, that feels nice,” the Champion groaned.

“Good, now let’s get some food into you,” 

The elf was so pretty, Hawke thought, watching the candle light play over the delicate lines of her collar bone. ‘Like the bones of a little bird, so thin they could snap, but why would you ever want to snap something so lovely and sweet?’. 

Orana handed her a cup of mulled wine and Hawke took it. It smelled wonderful and it was thick and sweet on her tongue. It tasted like the little cups of mulled wine Leandra would give them when Miriam and her siblings when they were sick. Orana had gotten the recipe out of her, like so many of Hawke’s other favorites when she was first come to live at the estate. She took little sips and watched Orana fussing with food, spreading little bits of Orlesian style pate over rolls she had made, each perhaps a third of the size of her palm.

“Open,” and Hawke took a bite. She took the rest of the roll from Orana and commenced to stuffing it in her mouth. The other girl laughed fondly, the sound of silver bells and handed her a bit of ham, rolled up to look like a rose. Hawke was struck, again by how damn much she loved the elf. How open and innocent her laugh was, radiating joy and comfort. Orana was a fine cook and when Hawke was away and she ran out of things that needed scrubbing she would compulsively cook.

Next came a slice of duck terrine, wrapped in a pastry coffin, smeared with grainy mustard and topped with a pickle half the length of Hawke’s pinky that was intensely sour. She sat up straight and riffled through the little basket of treats Orana had brought her. She took gnawed on a hunk of hard reindeer sausage, gamey and studded with pepper corns, spread some soft ripe cheese over the neat organized crumb of Orana’s rolls and all but inhaled soft slices of Lyonnaise. When the savories were gone Orana popped lemon macarons the size of buttons into Hawkes mouth. Each one had a shell so light, crisp and airy that it recalled lace, and a tender chewy center. 

When she was done Orana fetched a hot pan from the fire place and slipped it under the sheets.

“Now you stay here,” that word again on the tip of her tongue, “And I’ll tidy everything up,”

“Orana,” Hawke called and the other woman turned around looking surprised. “Orana please don’t go,” she quested in a very small voice.

“Of course Hawke, I’ll stay. Is it alright if I just tidy up the room but don’t leave?” 

Hawke nodded, “Yeah, its okay,” she said in the same little voice that seemed so incongruous with the feared in respected mage lying curled up against the pillows.

Orana smiled and gathered up the armor, the clothes and all her supplies and left them in a neat pile on a table by the door. She removed the heating pan from under the sheets and returned it to its place by the hearth. She blew out the lamp and stripped efficiently, piling her clothes in the laundry hamper before slipping into bed next to Hawke. Hawke uncurled herself and slid under the covers, groaning appreciatively at the warmth on her sore leg muscle. Orana really did think or everything.

She nuzzled up next to the smaller woman. 

“Sex?” she queried half hoping desperately her lover would agree, half dreading that she would- she was just so tired.

“No not tonight darling, you should rest. Maybe in the morning,”

“Okay,” Hawke nodded, burying her face against Orana’s thin avian collar bone.   
“Thank you for taking care of me,”

Hawke could hear Orana’s smile “It was no trouble. I took care of Hadriana after fights all the time and I couldn’t even stand her. This- this is nice,”

Hawke frowned. She knew it was silly to think that, just because Orana did things for her that Hadriana had also forced her to do, she was taking advantage, or that she was like Hadriana in anyway. But it was a doubt, worrying away at the corner of her mind.

“You know you don’t have to take care of me. You don’t have to be here or do anything-“

“When will you stop being such a silly girl, Hawke? I’m here because I like being here, I take care of you because I love you- because I hate seeing you in pain and because watching you feel better makes me feel warm inside. I’m in your bed because I want to be and the only reason I turned you down is because I don’t want you straining yourself after such a hard day.” She kissed Hawke’s lips, sweet and chaste.

“You’re nothing like her. You couldn’t be less like her,” she breathed. Her voice was a little sad, remembering the pain. “And I could love you for that alone,”

Hawke sighed, her fears assuaged for the moment.

“But you do like me for other reasons right?” she asked, mischief in her voice.

“Oh do I need to start listing the reasons I love you again?”

“Maybe,”

“Oh okay, well to begin…”

 

End

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic on the site, I do hope you liked it. I'm sorry for the food porny stuff, irl I'm a chef. Please comment if you liked it, or if you didn't like it or whatever.


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